


Broken

by Chianine



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: HYDRA Trash Party, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 11:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2545790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chianine/pseuds/Chianine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve breaks Bucky in ways HYDRA never could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Garbage Prompt:
> 
> At some point in the not so distant future Steve and Bucky are reunited - and once Bucky has recovered from his stint as a brainwashed assassin as well as possible - these two finally fess to the mutual not-quite-brotherly feelings for each other that they've both tried their hardest to ignore back in the day.
> 
> And everything is just about perfect for a while, right up until the point they first decide to have sex.
> 
> The problem? Well, Steve, being not only quite the gentleman but also extremely aware of the torture and punishments inflicted upon Bucky under Hydra's command tries his damned best to be as loving and gentle as he can.
> 
> All while Bucky is either perfectly aware of having been a party favor at this point or starts experiencing flashbacks during the sex - either way, turns out that the times he's been fucked by Hydra members & friends were the only times he's been treated with anything resembling faux-gentleness and care instead of being ignored at best and hurt at worst.  
> Steve being all sweet and gentle with him freaks him the hell out and makes him feel dirty and sullied and broken.  
> So he tries his best not to flinch away or cry or beg for mercy, because how could he ever justify denying the man he loves so dearly the pleasures others have taken from him time and time again?
> 
> _Yes I did two fills for the same prompt. At first I didn't like this story but reading it now it's not as bad as I remember. This was posted to the meme with the title, "Lips are for Kissing" but I changed it because that's a stupid-ass title. For those of you who may have read both, I'd be really interested to hear which one you like better._

As he usually did in the evenings, Steve sat quietly on the couch reading and listening to records. Beside him, Bucky sat with his knees drawn up to his chin, watching Steve attentively. To anyone else, this would have been nothing less than awkward, but Steve had grown accustomed to Bucky's strange behavior and had endless patience for it. Give it a while, Steve thought, before explaining how to sit normal and like, do something, anything besides stare and wait for commands. Baby steps.

Though he had been trying to hide it, Bucky's anxiety had been growing over the past few weeks. There was something he was missing about this whole arrangement with Rogers. Steve let him live in his house, eat his food, wear his clothes and hadn't asked for anything in return. Steve was all he had; Bucky had no idea how to live in this world and since Hydra had fallen he knew there were people who wanted him dead. The world hated him – he had done horrible things and Steve insisted on protecting him anyway. Why? Steve must expect something in return, something so obvious that he didn't even feel the need to ask for it. Bucky had to figure out what it was because his life depended on it. He tried to think of how he had pleased his previous masters, and then an idea came to mind.

He dropped on his knees in front of Steve, who looked up from his book with a puzzled expression. “Bucky?”

“Use my mouth.”

“What?”

“Use me. Use my mouth. I don't care.”

“Wha -? Use your mouth for what?”

Bucky eyes fell to Steve's crotch, who then sat up straight and raised his hand. “Bucky,” he said firmly, “it's not like that. We're friends. We never did those things.”

“I need to make you happy. I need to be good for you.”

“Bucky,” Steve said gently, “we already talked about this. You are good. You're always good. Not that – not that you need to be.”

“If you don't want my mouth, you can do other things. Whatever you want. I can strip and bend over for you -”

“Bucky!”

“- I don't mind,” Bucky spoke urgently, needing to convince Steve that he was welcome to his body, “I'm used to it.”

“Used to it?” Steve repeated with horror in his voice. Steve had suspected that Bucky had been abused in this way, but this confirmation was heartbreaking. “Bucky, no, okay?”

Bucky wondered. Steve was happy when Bucky said he wanted something. Wanting was new, still, but he thought he was getting the hang of it. “I – I want to. I want to do it. For you,” Bucky said, unconvincingly.

“I said no!” Steve shouted, and then, “Look, if you really want to do something for me I'll give you the key and you can go downstairs and get the mail.”

Bucky looked devastated, and Steve couldn't help but take pity on him.

“Hey, Buck I'm sorry, all right? I just – we're friends, okay? That's it; it's not a sexual thing. Friends spend time together, go to ball games, help each other out, you know. They don't usually have sex.” Steve patted the couch next to him. “Come on, get off the floor.”

As Bucky obeyed, Steve went on, “And anyway, that's not how sex is. Shouldn't be, anyway. You don't just stick your thing in someone else's face. There's other stuff involved, like kissing and touching and hugging. You know, sexy, gentle stuff.”

“Gentle stuff?”

“Yeah, making out, necking, you know. You used to be really good at it, apparently. You'll figure it out again once you meet some girls.”

“Girls?”

“Yeah, girls. You liked girls, Buck. A lot. And boy did they like you. We used to have to beat them off you with a stick.”

“We used to beat girls with sticks?”

“No!” Steve yelled, mostly at himself. Good call, Rogers. Have the poor guy thinking he used to pass his time abusing women. “No Bucky, don't get the wrong idea. You don't beat girls. It's a figure of speech. I just meant that they liked you is all. it. Easy to see why. I mean, you were a really handsome guy. Still are.”

Bucky turned his eyes to the ceiling, remembering the last time he had been called that word. _“...handsome...pretty face ...sweet lips good for sucking cock...”_

Steve winced, trying not to imagine what had happened to Bucky when someone had said these things to him. He wanted to share Bucky's pain, but Sam had told him he couldn't allow himself to get wrapped up in it. “Good for other things, too,” he said, “like kissing.”

“Kissing?”

“Yeah. Lips are for kissing.”

“How?”

“How?” Steve repeated, then he began to think. A strange opportunity was presenting itself. He would be lying to himself if he pretended that he never wondered what it would be like to kiss Bucky. He used to shamefully watch him making out with girls, and think about how good it must be for them. He wasn't jealous; that would be wrong. Bucky was into dames and Steve was supposed to be his best pal. But sometimes he would imagine himself as a girl and how it would feel to taste Bucky's mouth and feel his hands all over your skin, feel him inside of you...

“How, Steve?” Bucky repeated his question.

Steve used to be so ashamed of himself when he had these fantasies. He didn't see the point in torturing himself, wishing for something that was never going to happen. He was glad when he met Peggy, she had finally gotten his crush on Bucky pretty much sorted out, but now, Bucky was back, sitting here in his apartment, wanting to know what kissing was. What harm could there be? I mean, they were best friends, and some day Bucky was going to be out there again, meeting girls and what not, and who better but Steve to show him how to be intimate? He didn't want Bucky to meet a nice girl and then freak her out when she takes him home and he just falls on his knees and says 'use me.' Sure, some people might be into that, but come on.

“Do you want me to show you?” Steve heard the words coming out of his mouth, but still couldn't believe himself.

“Sure.”

“No. You have to really want this, Bucky.”

“Yeah, I want it.” Bucky had no idea what to expect, but when Steve closed his eyes and slowly brought his parted lips close to Bucky's, he instantly backed off, terrified.

Steve opened his eyes when he failed to make contact, and was struck by the sight of a wide-eyed Bucky sitting far back on the couch. “What's wrong?” Steve asked.

“What was– why were you trying to put your mouth on, on my mouth?” Bucky had come to think of his mouth as a dirty place, something to be used by others, deposited into. He had been told again and again that it was dirty, and those who used it certainly made it so. Why anyone would want to join their own mouth with his was confusing, maybe even a trick. Either that, or he was supposed to react in a way that he didn't understand.

“I thought you said- never mind, I'm sorry. Forget it, Buck.” Steve whispered, suddenly ashamed of himself for almost taking advantage of his vulnerable friend. Steve picked up his book again, staring at the pages without being able to read. He felt awful.

Bucky could see that he had disappointed Steve. “No, I do want it. I do. I was just scared, I- I didn't know what to do. Please, Steve, I want to- to kiss.”

Steve looked suspiciously back at Bucky.

“I mean it, Steve. Please, give me another chance. I've never done it before. I mean, not that I can remember.” Bucky was relieved when he saw Steve close the book and turn to face him. He was getting another chance. This time he would do it right.

“Okay,” Steve said, “close your eyes.”

He did so, reluctantly. Reminding himself that he could trust Steve. He had to. When he felt Steve's hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close, it didn't worry him because he was often handled this way. What he wasn't used to was the softness, the tenderness of Steve's lips.

It was like nothing he could remember, and that scared him. He had no prepared response. Bucky forced his body to stay relaxed as he felt Steve's bottom lip slip into his mouth, against his teeth, and his top lip was teased with the smallest amount of pressure. This was kissing. He forced himself to stay calm.

Steve released Bucky's lip and pulled away. When Bucky opened his eyes to look at Steve, he saw something like pain there, pain and pleading. It was like the last look on the face of a man before you put a bullet in his skull. Steve wanted something. What was it?

Bucky gambled and pushed forward, reconnecting their mouths. He was right. Steve whimpered, a sound Bucky recognized as what men did when you were servicing them properly. He was doing right.

Steve angled his head as they kissed, coaxing Bucky's mouth open. It was uncanny to Bucky how he had just known to do that, to open his mouth and accept Steve's tongue, as if his body was acting on an instinct beyond his will. What if he lost control and did something wrong? It scared him, and Steve seemed to sense his fear, stroking Bucky's cheek with his thumb, soothing him.

Before when he had something shoved into his mouth, he was choking and gagging, waiting for it to end. But Steve's mouth was plush and wet, and tasted as good as fresh water had when one of his handlers had remembered to give him some. Steve explored his mouth tenuously at first, Bucky allowing him deeper and deeper and responding in kind. There was no need to perform; his body knew what to do.

Steve ended the kiss and pressed their foreheads together. “Are you still okay with this?” he asked.

Steve was breathing heavily, in a way Bucky knew meant arousal. “Yes,” he answered. He was finally going to have his chance to please Steve.

They pressed their mouths together again, but only for a moment before Steve began kissing along Bucky's jaw and down to the sensitive skin of his neck. When Bucky felt his tongue there, an overwhelming sensation shot through him and a cry escaped his lips. He stifled it immediately, or tried to at least, but what Steve was doing to him was too intense. He didn't know this feeling. It was like pain but worse because it couldn't be ignored. It was creating in him a strange compulsion to reach out and touch Steve, to pull him close, and he was fighting it because it wasn't for him take pleasure but to give it.

Steve kept going as if he wanted to torment him, nibbling him softly and covering his ears with kisses. Bucky's heart rate was increasing and he began to worry that he was having a health issue. Something told him that if he could touch Steve and feel his body it would help. But he couldn't. He had been given no instruction to do so and this may be what Steve wanted - to cause this frustration inside him.

He kept fighting, tense and choking on his breath when Steve finally pulled away and placed Bucky's hand over his chest. “Touch me, Bucky,” he asked, almost begging.

Finally he had been given permission. Steve's body brought an instant relief. He drew his one true hand across Steve's chest and arms, taking in his warmth and strength, disbelieving that he should be allowed this privilege. Steve pressed Bucky's hand over his own heart, and the feel of it beating sent a shiver through Bucky. He felt weak, dangerously so. He felt like he needed to get away, to sit in the corner or go out for a walk, but he was entranced, powerless.

Using his own hand to guide Bucky's, Steve led it over his chest. For Bucky the relief of Steve's body had turned into the previous frustration. It grew worse when Steve began kissing the palm of Bucky's hand and running his fingertips over Steve's lips.

As he watched Steve's lips and his own fingers touching them, he imagined how they would feel inside Steve's mouth. The thought lingered on his mind as Steve kept teasing him, and suddenly it dawned on Bucky like a revelation – _this_ was wanting. True and actual wanting. This was the strange concept that Steve had been trying to get him to understand.

As if rewarding him for this breakthrough, Steve took one of his fingers into his mouth and sucked gently. Bucky felt his back arch as the feeling shot through his entire body. The wetness inside Steve's mouth made him thirsty for it, he leaned forward to kiss him, this time with an honest and real greed.

Steve took him into his arms, his hands all over Bucky's body and inside his shirt. Bucky kissed as deeply as he could but it seemed that his desire was something that could never satisfied. To taste Steve's mouth as he wanted to only made him want to taste more of Steve. He kissed Steve's face and neck, but it still wasn't enough. If he could have devoured Steve's entire body he would still want more.

Steve remained totally passive, allowing Bucky to take from him what he needed. Bucky could feel the strain in his pants growing, and he was terrified by the violence that he related to that. He knew what men did to fix that issue, and it wasn't something he could do to Steve. He had to stop. Things were getting out of control. It was difficult, but Bucky managed to pull himself away and sit back.

“What's wrong?” Steve asked.

“I want you,” Bucky answered, not sure if Steve understood the awfulness of his confession.

“Bucky it's okay,” Steve said, barely above a whisper, “I want you, too.” Steve moved back next to Bucky on the couch, who was pushing on his erection as if that would make it go away. “I've always wanted you. Dreamed of having you like this.”

Bucky couldn't pretend to understand wanting one particular person or dreaming about them, but he allowed it when Steve took his face in his hands and began kissing him softly, their lips barely touching. Every time their lips met, Bucky wanted to take Steve and push his tongue inside him, but he held back, submitting himself to more of this strange torture Steve seemed to enjoy.

Bucky understood when Steve began pulling up on his shirt. He allowed it to be removed, and then was told to lay on his back. “I was half-crazy over you,” Steve went on as he lightly ran his fingers over Bucky's chest, “I never wanted anything more than to be the one to make you feel good. It was my secret. I thought I would carry it with me to my grave.”

These words confused Bucky. That someone like Steve could have such a deep desire to please him seemed impossible. Steve was beside him now, still tracing his fingers across Bucky's chest. His whole mind was focused on the path of those fingers, all his senses completely dominated by them. As they played along his skin, across his nipples and navel, they made their way slowly to the fly of his pants. He heard Steve moan as he finally reached inside and took Bucky in his hands. The anticipation of this had been almost too much, but the feel of Steve's hands on him was terrifying. Bucky hated his arousal; usually when he had to satisfy himself he did it quickly and violently, often hurting himself. But Steve seemed to want to drag it out – he squeezed his cock and pumped it slowly, putting Bucky more and more out of his mind.

“I've always wanted to do this to you,” Steve repeated in his ear, his voice husky and loaded with desire. Bucky could barely make sense of what he was saying. He felt as if he was being put through a slow death, like drowning. His breathing was erratic and his spine felt like it was burning.

Right before the agony had reached it's peak, Steve released Bucky and began re-arranging their bodies. Bucky was still lost in a stupor when he felt the inside of Steve's mouth around his cock. He cried out and tensed. He had never felt this before. Steve moaned, obviously pleased with the effect he was having.

It was so wet, and so warm. Steve was taking him in and out of his mouth, kissing him, jerking him as he sucked just the tip, kissing his thighs and above the base, and every touch of his mouth sent shock waves through Bucky's body. It was intolerable. It was worse than any injury he could remember, or any pain he could imagine inflicting on another person. His body was completely out of his own control, and he was at the mercy of another. He could barely think.

“Is it good?” Steve asked, still working him slowly with his hand.

Good? Bucky had no idea what that meant in this situation. Was Steve doing a good job of making Bucky suffer?

“Yes,” Bucky said breathlessly.

“Tell me what you like,” Steve asked, still kissing his body and making it impossible for Bucky to formulate a complete thought let alone a response.

“I wanna come,” Bucky finally choked out.

“Now?” Steve asked.

“Yes, please, Steve...” Bucky said, surprised at the needy tone of his own voice.

Then Steve said, “Bucky, I want you to watch me while I do this. Keep your eyes on me. Please? Can you do that for me?”

Bucky was forced to watch as Steve steadily worked him with his hands, licking and sucking as he did so. Steve looked back up to Bucky constantly, watching to see how he was tearing him apart. When Bucky finally did break, he held on to Steve's gaze as long as he could until the orgasm became so blinding that he couldn't see or even hear his own cries. The last thing he did hear was that name, that name that was supposed to be his but wasn't.

It was finally over. Steve had fallen on top of him, and was kissing and stroking him. Bucky could almost stand it now. He was exhausted, and he felt like something had been ripped out of him. Maybe something had.

As the high of his orgasm waned, a creeping terror started growing inside of him. This may be over now, but it would certainly happen again. Steve had said how much he had always wanted this, and the pleasure, the intensity in his eyes during the whole horrid event was undeniable. To keep Steve happy, Bucky would have to submit to it. But Steve would believe that Bucky wanted this, and he never could want it. It would always be a lie. Steve wanted to make love to this Bucky, this imaginary person that could want all this touching and kissing and enjoy it. But that person was long dead.

He was the Winter Soldier, a whore and a murderer. He was comfortable with that. It was simple to take orders without having to want. But Steve was trying to take all that away from him, to destroy the Winter Soldier piece by piece until there was nothing left but a phony reincarnation of Bucky Barnes. That frightened him. It was like dying, and he still had a sense of self-preservation.

Steve could see something was wrong. “What's up, Bucky?” he asked, then moved off him in case he wanted to get up.

“I'm just... I gotta go and -”

“You've gotta go where? Are you okay?” Steve sounded obviously worried, and Bucky avoided looking at him as he buttoned his fly and put his shirt back on.

“I gotta go...” he was flustered, trying to find an excuse, any reason to get away. “I gotta go and get the mail. Like you said you wanted me to, remember?”

Bucky headed to the door and quickly put on his shoes and jacket. Steve was still half-naked on the couch, confused and repeating that damn name he loved so much. “Bucky! Don't you need the key?”

Bucky left without answering, then ran down the stairs of the building and into the street. He had nothing now, he knew that, nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep, but he still had his identity. He knew who he was.

Bucky walked quickly. He wasn't halfway down the street though before he heard a familiar and urgent voice calling him, the hated name echoing against the brick buildings.

He took off running, knowing it was hopeless. After turning down a dark alley and finding it to be a dead end, he tried climbing over a high fence but immediately felt a hand on his leg, pulling him down. He turned around, ready to throw his metal fist but found that he couldn't when he saw Steve's face. He just couldn't bring himself to hurt Steve.

This is what had been taken away from him. This piece of the Winter Soldier was now gone, the ability to injure or kill anything that got in his way. Especially if it was Steve.

“Bucky!” Steve gasped, out of breath from sprinting, “Don't leave, please. I'm sorry. It's my fault what I did to you, I'm sorry, please, I'll never do that again.” Steve continued his pleas and apologies as he took Bucky in his arms and crushed him against his chest.

Limp in Steve's arms, Bucky did nothing to get away. It was useless. If he wasn't killed first, Steve would find him. He belonged to this man, as surely as he had belonged to Hydra. He was no longer the Winter Soldier and he could never be Bucky, but he would always be someone else's property.


End file.
